"No, I'm not saying that," I reply stubbornly. "I'm saying that because you decided to date someone who isn't even remotely physical at all, you don't get to run with me."
She steps forward so that she's standing nose-to-nose with me.
"But I want you to run with me," she says. "So what do I have to do? What'll it cost me?"
I stutter for a second, suddenly fully awake.
Damn, she's pretty.
"Uh, well... you can start by kissing me good morning. I'm guessing you didn't because those idiots were watching," I say the beginning of this softly, but I let my voice get louder and carry so that the guys can hear exactly what I think of them gate-crashing my morning.
They let me know they've heard me by laughing loudly and pounding on the door.
My mother must be loving this.
I can only imagine what my mother is thinking, suddenly the host of a large group of loud teenage boys- some of which are not wearing shirts. I know for a fact that this has never happened to her before, and it must be just a touch beyond unbelievable.
"Okay," Emily says, bending in for a sweet kiss that I respond immediately to. "Good morning, August. You look lovely today. Take your pants off."
I blush deeply, thoroughly not expecting that last part.
But I do as she says, shimmying off the Soffee shorts I usually sleep in. She scoops my red pair of basketball shorts off of the side of my clothing pile and hands them to me, lifting one eyebrow.
"Put them on," she instructs, and I do. She then pulls on the long hem of the large t-shirt borrowed from my dad that I always sleep in. "What do I have to do to get this off?"
I don't have time to answer before she kisses me again, harder, as she lifts the shirt over my unsuspecting shoulders. The kiss only breaks when the shirt passes between our faces, and she whispers: "I guess that was enough, huh?"
I nod. She glances quickly down at my worn black sports bra.
"That'll do. Pull some shoes on, let's go," she says, walking to my bedroom door and opening it as I scramble to pull on a pair of tennis shoes.
Chris whistles when he sees me step into the hall.
"Looking good, Shoemaker," says Jonathon with a wink that would work if I knew he actually meant it. There's no way he does- though it's spring now, I'm still pale from this winter, and I lack the perfectly flat stomach that my fit girlfriend is sporting.
But I don't have time to focus on that because Jonathon's jaw isn't the only one nearing the ground while I'm following the team out the front door.
"August Denae, what are you wearing?" my mother says in soap opera tones behind me.
"Workout clothes, mom."
She follows me out of the door.
"Where are you going? You're not wearing a shirt, August!"
"I'm going for a run, mom. Can't stay," I say over my shoulder as I jog after the group, trying to keep up.
Rusty and Dan are cackling like hyenas right along with Emily at the front of the group. I catch up with them after a minute, tapping Emily on the shoulder.
"I don't know if I hate you, or if I love you right now."
Two miles later, I am quite positive that I may hate them- all of them. Not only have the other girlfriends joined us, but so has Sellers. Lucky for me though, Sellers is much faster than I am, and he is right at the front of the group with Jonathon and Rusty.
YOU ARE READING
Tea For Two
Humor"Just wondering, Shoemaker. Are you going to tell your parents? Or should I?" When I was little, I was terribly afraid of heights. One day, in a bleak attempt to rid me of this, my father climbed onto the roof of our one story house with me on his b...
